oneshots + random stories I come up with + stories from prompts

Why are you Scared of the Dark?

Clockwork.

That's the best description Mark could give this- this thing.

It came around every night, at the exact same time, in the same manner.

It didn't matter what he did before 12:00. The moment the clock hand hit the top of the clock, It came back.

Tonight, he was hoping to end this routine. He was going to stop It from getting to him and he would never see It again.

So far, he'd stayed at home every night. He would lock himself in his room, or the bathroom, or whatever room had a lock, and pray that It wouldn't find him.

Not tonight.

Tonight he would run.

The clock hand hit 11:50 and Mark left the house. He started up the car and was on the road by 11:54. He had just enough time that, if he drove fast enough, he could make it on to the highway before 12. Then he could easily get away.

It was a solid plan, Mark thought. Sure there was quite a bit of room for failure, but why should that stop him. It had been pretty docile up until then, and it seemed like it would stay that way, even for just a little while longer. Why not take a chance and see if he could outrun, or more like outdrive, this thing.

Just as planned, he hit the highway a minute before 12, and drove the gas pedal into the floor. Mark wasn't a superstitious person. He didn't really believe in ghosts up until then. But there really wasn't any other explanation for It. He knew that ghosts could be bad. They weren't in most situations, but this one felt wrong. It felt like It could turn bad at any moment. And he would rather not be close to It if It does.

He drove for a while, easily maintaining his average speed of 130 km/hour, up until the moment he saw his minister flash. He looked at it and realised that his gas was about to run out. In a split second decision, he swerved into the gas station he was about to pass and stopped at one of the many open pumps.

Filling up the gas took only a few minutes, and Mark was soon walking into the actual station to go pay.

The station was empty, and there was no sign of life anywhere. One of the two working lights flickered every few seconds and it smelled of dust and mold, which caused him to cough.

He called out for someone. He just really wanted to pay and then get back on the road to create more distance in between him and It.

When no one answered, he started to get a little more nervous. The lights were still flickering just like they had when he had come in, nothing changed at all. And yet he felt something shift. Looking around, he didn't see anything out of place, so maybe it wasn't a thing that was different.

The buzzing of the lights and vending machines seemed to multiply in volume and the entire store darkened. Mark's breath hitched as, he swears, he felt something brush his back. He spins around but alas, nothing is there.

He started to pace, a bad habit he'd gotten from his dad and shines whenever he's nervous, and tightens his hold on his phone. What was it he'd heard about defense? Hold your keys in between each of your fingers, right? He did just that and slowed down with his relentless pacing.

It's fine, It can't get to you. It doesn't leave your house. You're fine you're fine you're fine you're-

You're not fine.

He watched as pitch black smoke that scarily resembled the void, seeped into the store from any crack and hole. All he could do was scream, but soon even that was stripped away from him. The feeling of floating overwhelmed him. It was all black, black, and more black. No sound, no smell, nothing.

Just black.

He looked down and was confused to see that his body was still there. He could see it clear as day, as if there was a source of light similar to the moon shining down on him. He looked up but it was black, so why could he see himself.

He jumped when a face spiraled into existence from the black. It seemed human, but it clearly wasn't since it was made of the void smoke.

It opened Its mouth and the cries of thousands of things left it. It's eyes started weeping blood and Mark watched in horror as the eyes rolled back and the mouth, that was previously open, hung even lower until the bottom jaw hit the ground.

A new thing came out of the mouth and it was a full body this time. It was red all over, naked, but seemingly human. Mark was sane enough to realise that this thing wasn't human, since humans didn't have red skin, but that was the only thing he could see that would put it apart from any other man you might see on the streets.

The red thing came towards him and Mark stood his ground. He might die here, he thought, but he wanted to at least go out fighting.

The red thing stopped when it was inches away from him. It loomed over him eerily and expectingly, as if it wanted something from him.

Mark quickly patted down his pockets and came up with a few spare coins. He didn't exactly know what he was doing, but it felt right, so he didn't fight it. He handed the coins to the red thing and then it looked at him, nodded, and disappeared leaving only red smoke in the black void.

Mark stood there for a bit, waiting for something to happen.

He quickly saw a small hole of light appear and then all of the smoke slinked away from it, as if someone put it in reverse. It all stopped in one small black ball, which soon left as well.

And just like that, the entire ordeal was over.

Mark didn't sleep after that. Not that night, or any after that. He was haunted by the ungodly sight of the black face and the cries of agony coming from it, and he didn't hesitate to kill himself only a month afterwards.

So now I ask you, why aren't you afraid of the dark?